


Playing Hooky

by allamaraine



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 04:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2608511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamaraine/pseuds/allamaraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, Kathryn just does not feel like going to work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Hooky

Beverly hums happily as she pours herself a fresh, piping hot cup of coffee and stirs in a generous dose of cream and sugar. It is nice, for once, not to have a pile of work waiting for her on the kitchen table in the morning. Normally in the mornings, Beverly can be found nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee while sifting through medical reports and population statistics and news items on her PADD, jotting down notes as she goes. However, her newest assistant, an efficient, brisk Vulcan, is a bureaucratic marvel and Beverly is looking forward to more stress free mornings like this one. 

Of course, she thinks as she sits down at the table and takes a sip of coffee, last night’s … activities certainly helped with her stress levels as well. 

A loud yawn draws her attention the doorway of the kitchen. Setting her coffee down, she turns in her chair to find a sleepy-eyed Kathryn leaning on the doorframe, wearing Beverly’s favorite old oversized blue sweater. On Kathryn’s shorter frame, it works more as a dress than a top, while still giving Beverly a more than ample view of Kathryn’s lusciously round thighs. And her shoulders… the boat neck of the sweater slides dangerously far down Kathryn’s arms and – Beverly shakes her head. This is not the time for that. 

“Nice sweater,” she says archly. 

“’S cold,” Kathryn mumbles by way of explanation. She frowns accusatorily and adds, “You left the bed.”

“Kathryn, I have to go to work. And so do you.”

“But Beverlyyy,” she protests, drawing out the “Y” to an impressive length. 

Beverly chuckles. “Come here.”

Kathryn shuffles, zombie-like, across the kitchen floor and unceremoniously settles herself into Beverly’s lap. Beverly starts rearranging the strands of Kathryn’s hair that have gone astray and asks, “Are you suggesting we play hooky?” 

Kathryn huffs, “Starfleet Admirals do not ‘play hooky.’ I’m merely pointing out that seeing as we are both terribly sick,” here she fake-coughs for emphasis, “We are going to have to stay in bed all day. Doctor’s orders.” 

“I see.”

“It’d be irresponsible not to take care of ourselves, you know. The Federation depends on us.” 

“Ah yes, without us, the Federation would be nothing. A crumbled shell of what it used to be.”

“Exactly. I’m glad you understand.” Kathryn’s hand snakes out and latches onto Beverly’s coffee mug. Beverly blithely waits as Kathryn unthinkingly takes a big swig. A moment later, a disgusted look crosses Kathryn’s face as she quickly swallows the too-sweet drink. Afterwards, she does a lot of glaring: first at the offending coffee, then at Beverly, then back at the coffee. “Now I really am going to be sick. How can you drink this stuff?”

“That’s what you get for stealing,” says Beverly, kissing Kathryn on the cheek and retrieving the coffee from her greedy hands. “There’s some more in the pot.” After seven years of living on replicated coffee – or worse, Neelix’s “better-than-coffee substitute” – Kathryn refuses to drink anything other than freshly ground and brewed coffee, which Beverly has been more than happy to go along with. Kathryn slides off of Beverly’s lap, causing the sweater to ride up and reveal her most-definitely-not Starfleet issue panties. Beverly narrows her eyes, almost certain Kathryn pulled that little maneuver on purpose. Her suspicions are confirmed by the exaggerated sway of Kathryn’s hips as she walks and the ludicrously unnatural way she reaches across the kitchen counter to grab a coffee mug, making sure Beverly gets an excellent view of said underwear, lace and all.

Beverly rolls her eyes. “Really, Kathryn?”

“What?” Kathryn feigns doe-eyed innocence over the rim of her now-full mug. 

Beverly gives Kathryn a wry smile. “You know exactly what.”

Kathryn ignores her and eyes closed, takes a long, slow sip of her coffee. Even when in the middle of teasing Beverly, coffee is serious business for Kathryn. Her face transforms into the very picture of bliss as she drinks. 

Beverly never suspected it was possible to be this jealous of a beverage.

After spending another tender moment or two alone with the coffee, Kathryn crosses back over to the table to set her mug down and then leans against the edge of the table, looking down at Beverly with a playful smile about her. “Now then,” she says, “I believe you were wrongfully accusing me of something or another?”

Beverly grabs Kathryn by the hips and pulls her in closer. “Yes. Of being a conniving seductress.”

Kathryn’s forehead crinkles with thoughtful consideration as she rests her arms on Beverly’s shoulders. “I’ve been called conniving before, but never a seductress.”

“Why do I find that hard to believe?”

Grinning, Kathryn bends down to kiss Beverly, but she stops just short of Beverly’s lips and says, “So, Doctor, what’s the diagnosis?”

Beverly sighs. “I suppose you might have caught a bit of Altairan flu on your last trip.”

Kathryn gives her a quick, firm kiss on the mouth. “There,” she says, “Now you have it too.” She extracts herself from Beverly’s grasp to drink more coffee. “You know, I’ve never done this before,” she says eagerly. “Skipped class or work, I mean.”

“Really? Not even in the Academy?”

Kathryn shakes her head. “No. I was too much of a bookworm and a workaholic. My roommates must have thought I was about the dullest person they’d ever met.”

“I probably could have stood to have been a little less exciting, myself.”

Kathryn’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do you mean to tell me, Beverly Crusher, that you were not always the perfect, responsible doctor I see before me here today?”

Beverly laughs. “Far from it. As determined as I was to become a good doctor, I was equally determined to have a good time. Caldos is a long way from San Francisco, and not just because it’s on another planet.”

“And why is it that I haven’t heard any of these stories of your wild youth yet, hmm?” Kathryn sets down her coffee and looks at Beverly expectantly.

Beverly abruptly stands, “You’re looking rather pale, Admiral. I think it’s time we got you back to bed.” Kathryn, a smug smile on her face, allows Beverly to guide her back into their bedroom. Once there, Kathryn collapses onto the bed, pulling Beverly, laughing, down next to her. They lay there for a moment, holding hands, before Beverly says, “Someone needs to call HQ.”

Kathryn groans in annoyance. “Computer?”

Their computer chirrups in response.

“Please alert Starfleet Headquarters that Admiral Kathryn Janeway and Doctor Beverly Crusher are both ill and will not be in today and to only contact us in the case of an emergency.”

“My scans show that you are both in perfect health.”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

“Please rephrase the question.”

“Just send the message!”

“Sending… Starfleet Headquarters has received your message.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn turns onto her side, resting on one elbow as she gazes at Beverly. “Now then, what do you usually prescribe for a patient in my situation?”

“Well first,” Beverly says as she rolls over on top of Kathryn, trapping the Admiral between her knees, “We’re going to have to get you warmed up.” 

Kathryn shivers with pleasure, though she pretends it is with cold. “Will that break my fever?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. But don’t worry,” with a smirk, Beverly traces one nail gently along Kathryn’s clavicle, “There are a multitude of treatment options for this particular ailment and I am very familiar with all of them.”

“I put my life in your capable hands, Doctor.”

As those capable hands slide down her body, Kathryn hums happily.


End file.
